


long way from the playground

by ariadne_odair



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Asexual Character, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Girl Direction, Holding Hands, Oral Sex, Sharing beds, Snuggling, everyone is larry af, face riding, louis just doesnt realise it, louis just pines for a tonne of it, what counts as friendly?, yeah we're totally just gal pals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-10 17:04:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4400147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariadne_odair/pseuds/ariadne_odair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“You want one?” Harry asks, utterly oblivious to Louis’ miniature panic attack. “Babe, do you want a cup of tea?”</i>
</p><p>  <i>Babe. Louis is dead. Louis is so dead. She’s a walking corpse over here, oh and apparently she’s hysterical. Well this is just a giant train wreck.</i></p><p> </p><p>Louis should really get over being in love with her best friend. Harry doesn't help by acting less than platonic. Liam is Liam and Niall is the best wing woman ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [transstevebucky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/transstevebucky/gifts).



> This was posted so much later then intended! real life went insane and I lost motivation BUT IT IS FINALLY UP hope you like this jaxie :)

Louis hasn’t done her English homework.

Louis hasn’t done her English homework for a number of valid reasons. They include: challenging Niall to a ‘how many packets of Wotsits can you eat’ challenge, having to shave because she was beginning to resemble a bear on its hind legs, and catching up on all six seasons of Pretty Little Liars.

(Niall won, she almost bled out in the shower, and Alison isn’t dead, who knew?)

So really, there were a number of explanations, but now Louis hasn’t written a three-thousand-word essay on symbolism in MacBeth and she is fucked. Mrs Mayes always treats Louis as if she is an endangered species that no one really likes: she can’t kill her, but she won’t be contributing to the donation tin any time soon.

Louis doesn’t understand why Mrs Mayes is giving them homework anyway. She’s only just finished her AS exams - two weeks of utter panic and abject terror - but now it’s over and it’s time to relax. It’s May, UCAS and A2s and open days can wait for a bit. The whole summer holidays, if Louis has her way.

She glances out the window, lip curving in disgust. It’s so fucking hot, the kind of heat that is everywhere, that seeps through the walls and the windows, that forces you to throw off the covers and linger in the open door of the fridge.

It’s only mid-afternoon on a Sunday, so technically she has time but just... she doesn’t want to. All of her energy feels sapped, as if she’s a doll with its strings cut, only capable of flopping over uselessly with dead eyes.

She calls Harry.

Harry doesn’t pick up for ages, and when she does, the sound is all muffled and sketchy. “Um, hello?”

Louis flops down onto her bed, staring at the cracks in the ceiling. “Where are you? Why is your voice all funny? Are you trapped somewhere?”

“I’m not trapped somewhere,” Harry says indignantly, “wait a sec.” There’s the sound of banging, then her voice comes through again, stronger and clearer. “Dusty wouldn’t come out from under the bed, I was trying to get her.”

To be honest, having a large furry animal on your lap sounds like an awful idea, but Louis doesn’t comment. “I’m fucked.”

“You’re fucked or you’ve been fucked?”

Louis snorts, kicking her feet back and forth. “To be honest, mate, Scarlett Johansson could be naked in my bed right now, and I would have to refuse. Too bloody hot for sex.”

“I think sex is supposed to be hot,” Harry pipes up, and Louis groans. Harry just cackles like an insane hyena down the line. It wasn’t even that funny, but Harry never seems to realise that.

“Shut up. Did you do the essay for English?”

“I don’t do English. Louis, please tell me you did the essay instead of seeing who could eat the most Pringles with Niall.”

“It was Wotsits,” Louis protests, but she pouts when she hears Harry’s sigh. “I haven’t done it. Mayes is going to kill me.”

Harry hums for a bit, then says, “Come to the shop with me.”

Louis contemplates throwing her phone at the wall. “Harry, I had to peel myself off the pavement earlier. I’m not going outside.”

“You’re not going to do your essay,” Harry answers lazily, and Louis hates how well Harry knows her. Harry also knows that Louis is eventually going to cave in, crumple like a pack of cards, because she’s never been able to deny Harry anything. “We both know that. So will you come to the shop with me?”

Louis argues for about five minutes, then abruptly agrees. She can practically hear Harry’s smirk through the phone, so she hangs up. Harry sends her a text with the aubergine emoji, which Louis doesn’t even try to decipher. Harry is so weird.

Lottie slopes into her room as she’s getting ready. She’s tapping away on her phone, blonde hair hanging in a shimmery ponytail down her back. “Ew, are you really going out?”

Louis pulls on a pair of high waisted shorts, then kicks on an old pair of Toms. “Yeah, me and Harry are going to the shop.”

“Oh, Harry. Right,” Lottie smirks, as if that answers every question in the universe. “I see.”

Louis ignores her, pulling on an old grey vest top. The arm holes are huge, and you can see her lacey bra, but she’s not particularly bothered. She pulls her hair up into a messy bun, tendrils curling around her face.

“How are you so tanned?” Lottie asks admiringly, leaning against Louis’ desk. “I took Fizzy out to the park yesterday and she burnt all her back. Mum proper ripped into me.”

“You should make her wear suncream,” Louis chastises gently, checking her reflection one more time. “Okay, I’ll see you in a bit, yeah?”

Lottie snorts, waving a manicured hand. “Have fun with Harry.”

It’s horrible when she heads outside, a swathe of heat engulfing her immediately. She has no idea why it’s this fucking hot in May - they live in fucking England. Apparently as the temperature increases, so does Louis’ use of expletives. Isn’t that nice.

Harry is waiting for her at the end of Louis’ road. Louis’ mouth goes dry and it has nothing to do with the heat.

Harry’s hair is held back by a silky blue headband. The rest of her hair tumbles down her back, dark curls sticking to her neck like vines. She’s in cut off shorts and a crop top, brown boots scuffed and pointing inwards. Her legs go on forever and Louis is transfixed: the creamy skin of her legs, the flex of her calves, the sharp jut of her ankles.

Harry looks up then, startling Louis out of her reverie. Her whole face lights up as if the sun has come out, dimples carving into her cheeks and her eyes burning viridescent, bright green with flecks of gold.

“Loueh,” Harry grins, like she’s so fucking clever. Her lips curve into a smirk, candyfloss pink against a slate of white, and Louis wants to tug on that lip, bite down until Harry is squirming beneath her and -

\- and this is so fucking inappropriate, Louis thinks wildly. Crap. She’s bright red now, glaringly obvious. Maybe she can blame it on heat stroke. This is really not the time or the place to be having fantasies about her best friend. Not as though there is a time or place, shit -

“Oi, oi,” Louis says loudly, just to shut her brain up. “Come on, to the shop. You better buy me something.”

She can feel herself getting louder and louder, her automatic defence when she feels uneasy to scream and shout and basically go off like a firework, in the hope that no one notices the way her skin is crawling.

Harry narrows her eyes. “I always buy you something. Last time I didn’t have enough money to buy you a Kit Kat, and you bit me.”

Louis sniffs, bumping her hip against Harry’s. “In my defence, Niall had made me drink some disgusting Irish concoction, then me and Stan had about ten shots. Oh and then, Jesy Nelson thought it would be a good idea to have some jager bombs.” She turns to Harry, hands on her hips. “So by that point, Harry, I just really wanted a Kit Kat.”

“You can’t have wanted it that much, you threw it up all over my shoes,” Harry says reasonably. Louis hits her in the boob, then just laughs when Harry doubles over in pain.

They trudge into ASDA, both sighing with relief at the sudden burst of cool air. An old lady gives them a weird look, so Louis just moans louder until Harry drags her off. They wander down to the freezers, Harry stopping to make funny faces at a baby in the vegetable aisle.

“Do you want a mini-milk?” Harry asks, pulling open the freezer door.

Louis gapes at her. “Uh, no. I don’t want a mini-milk, what kind of knock off ice cream is that?”

Harry pouts at her. “It’s not knock off, I like them.”

“Harry, I used to give them to the twins when they were babies. There’re only three flavours. It’s literally the most boring ice cream ever.”

Harry sighs, putting the box back onto the shelf. She pulls another box out, face serious. “Do you want a nobbly bobbly?”

“Harry,” Louis says flatly, “you only picked that box because you wanted to say the word ‘knob’.”

Harry manages to remain deadpan for about three seconds, then cracks up. Louis just waits, fondly watching as Harry throws her head back, curls tumbling over her headscarf. Harry finishes laughing with a little hiccup, beaming at Louis like a naughty schoolchild. “I don’t just like the word ‘knob’. I also like the word ‘vagina’, being bisexual and that.”

“I’m a lesbian and even I don’t like the word ‘vagina’,” Louis snorts, “just say pussy. Or cunt.”

“Cunt is good in context,” Harry agrees seriously, then blanches when an old lady glares at her. Louis laughs so hard she chokes, then laughs even harder when Harry apologizes profusely.

“Come on, just get a Cornetto,” Louis insists, linking her fingers around Harry’s wrist. Harry grabs a box of strawberry Cornettos - nice, Louis’ favourite - then trails after her. Louis can feel the thrum of Harry’s pulse under her fingers, the way her skin burns against hers.

Louis wants to go to the self-checkout, but Harry insists on using one of the tills. Louis’ pretty certain this has nothing to do with Harry’s claimed ‘terror of machines’, but more to do with the fact that there’s a baby in front of them in the queue.

Within seconds Harry has started a conversation with the harassed mother in front of them, chatting away. The mum has a sunburned face, tomato sauce on her stretched white shirt, but she answers all Harry’s questions about her little girl.

“Unbelievable,” Louis mutters when the mum toddles off, and Harry just smirks at her.

“Babe, have you put any suncream on?” Louis asks, glancing at Harry’s pale shoulders. “You’re going to burn, you know you did last year.”

Harry wrinkles her nose, pulling out her purse and counting her change. “Can I just borrow yours?” She gives Louis a blatant once over. Louis’ stomach swoops, even though she knows it’s nothing. “You don’t even need it.”

“Yeah, ‘course you can.”

Harry beams at her. “Thanks, boo bear.”

Louis rolls her eyes. “That’s okay, sugarplum.”

Harry’s smiles even wider, eyes glinting in amusement. Louis can feel the hairs on the back of her neck rising, and she looks away.

“Here’s your receipt,” the check out girl blurts. She waves it out in front of her like a baton, flushing when Harry takes it. “Also, um, you two are a really cute couple.”

Louis waits for Harry to correct her, but she doesn’t. Maybe Louis should, and she opens her mouth in panic, but then Harry just says, “thanks!” and Louis snaps her mouth shut.

She doesn’t say anything as they trail out of the store. They dump the box in the bin outside, Louis ripping open the packet and getting her fingers sticky. There’s a park near the store, and Louis flops down onto the grass, feeling the spikes of it against her skin.

She takes a huge bite of her ice cream, wincing at the shock of cold against her teeth, then mumbles, “Why didn’t you correct that girl?”

Harry blinks at her, pink tongue darting out to lick her own ice cream. “I don’t know. At least she wasn’t homophobic, right? I didn’t see the point.”

Louis swallows. “The lack of homophobia towards our hypothetical relationship was great, yeah.”

Harry glances at the floor, Louis can see the way her eyelashes fan against her cheeks, the tiny freckles that dance over her nose. “Did it bother you?”

“Course not,” Louis snorts, nudging Harry with her shoulder. The real reasons it didn’t bother her aren’t exactly selfless, but she’s not going to let Harry feel bad. “I don’t care.”

“Good,” Harry whispers. She rests her head against Louis’ shoulder, curls tickling her face. Louis can feel the stickiness of her fingers, and she closes her eyes against the burn of the sun.

 **  
**  


-

**  
**

She doesn’t end up doing her English essay, which consequently leads to Louis getting shouted at in front of the whole class. Mrs Mayes tells her she has to do it in her free period, and Louis slinks to her chair with her cheeks burning.

She’s in an awful mood by lunch time. Her chest feels tight, like her ribs are squeezing harder and harder around her lungs, until she can’t breathe. She can feel her skin crawling, as if there are a thousand splinters sliding under it, scraping harder and harder.

Harry’s eyes widen as Louis walks over, lips parting. The lunch hall is packed full of screaming Year 7s as Louis navigates to their usual table. Harry’s eyes meet hers, considering and calm, then she slowly kicks out a chair.

Louis collapses into it, dropping her bag onto the floor with a thud. She can feel the burn of the other girls’ gazes, but she ignores it. The silence hangs awkwardly for a second, then Niall and Liam begin chatting.

There’s a rustling noise, then a chocolate chip muffin appears in her eyeline. Louis takes a deep breath, then turns to Harry. “I love you.”

Harry grins. “I know.”

Louis feels her chest loosen slightly. She breaks off a bit of the muffin, groaning when the taste of chocolate explodes on her tongue. “How is it you can’t walk in a straight line, but you can rival Jamie Oliver if you want to?”

“Natural talent,” Harry shrugs. She pulls out a tub of fruit, a blur of pinks and yellows and greens. Harry spears a piece with a fork, chewing thoughtfully. “You got shouted at in English, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Louis mutters, “it was awful. Everyone was staring.”

“Lou,” Harry mumbles, sliding an arm around her. It’s normally Louis doing the cuddling - Harry is like a sleepy kitten - but it’s comforting to rest all her weight on the other girl. Harry smells nice, fruity and sweet, and Louis rests her head on her shoulder. “You managed to do it in the end though, right?”

“Yeah, in my free.” Harry’s arm is strong and warm against her back. She’s drumming a rhythm on Louis’ hipbone, fingers tracing over the soft skin. It makes Louis sigh contentedly, lost in the soothing pressure.

“Something really funny happened at the bakery last night,” Harry begins, and Louis settles in. Niall always teases Harry for sounding like a funeral director, but Louis has never been bothered by Harry’s way of talking. It’s low, like a smooth sip of dark coffee. Louis watches her mouth as she speaks; the way she stutters over the vowels, rambles off in tangents, tugs her pink lips with her slender fingers. It’s not platonic in any way, a little voice in Louis’ head notes, but she ignores it.

“And then the customer left!” Harry finishes triumphantly, beaming at Louis.

Louis just grins, shaking her head. “No way.”

“Haz, that was the most boring story I’ve ever heard,” Niall snorts. She flicks a chip across the table at Harry, blue braces glinting in the dingy overhead lights. “I don’t know why Louis even puts up with you.”

Harry pouts, frowning. “Hey.”

Louis pats her face. “It’s okay, babe. I keep you around for your baking skills.”

Harry perks up like a puppy that’s seen a treat. “Did you know I’m a baker - “

“Yes,” Liam, Louis and Niall drone, and Harry deflates like a popped balloon.

“Tommo, are you coming to football practice?” Liam asks, frowning at her. “You said you were coming last week and then you left me.”

“I had to take Fizzy to the dentist, Lottie bailed,” Louis explains. “She’s got a new boyfriend.”

“Who?” Niall demands.

Louis shrugs. “Uh. James something? He’s in Year 9 - “

“James Fletcher,” Niall answers immediately, “he’s Sean’s cousin. He’s a nice lad.”

Louis blinks at her. “Are you a mole person?”

“Louis,” Harry hisses, but Niall just bursts into laughter. Harry jabs her in the ribs, frowning at her. “Niall isn’t a mole person.”

“Well, she has some weird underground network going on,” Louis snaps, trying not to smile. Niall grins at her, blonde hair tied in two messy braids. She looks young when she laughs, a handful of freckles scattered over her pale skin.

“Have they had sex?” Liam asks casually, just as Louis takes a sip of juice. Louis chokes on the mouthful, so Harry pounds her on the back.

“What the - Harry, I’m not choking anymore - what the fuck, Liam? That’s my baby sister!”

Liam just gazes at her with soulful, puppy eyes. “I’m just saying, safe sex is important -”

Louis thunks her head on the table. “Shut up, shut up, shut up.”

“Underage pregnancy is a serious thing,” Liam continues earnestly, poking Louis in the arm. “Maybe you should buy her some condoms - “

“I’m not buying my baby sister condoms,” Louis hisses, lifting her head. She’s about to rip Liam to shreds, when she sees the corner of her mouth twitching. “Wait - you’re winding me up, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Liam says proudly. Niall and Harry promptly crack up. Louis smacks her head back onto the table. She hates everyone. She doesn’t know why she even hangs around with these people.

“I hate you,” Louis announces, the sound muffled by the table top. “I hate you, Liam, you can’t joke about things like that.”

She thinks Harry gives Liam a high five. Fucking traitor.

“Come on, Lou,” Harry coaxes, nudging her. When Louis doesn’t react, she slowly strokes Louis’ hair. Damn, Harry knows Louis can’t resist that, and she whimpers slightly when Harry gently tugs on one of the strands. “You have to admit that was quite funny.”

Liam chimes in, “Yeah, it was joke.”  
  
Louis lifts her head, looks Liam straight in the eye, and says, “I bet Ruth had sex with Luke in your bed.”

Liam shrieks appropriately, and Louis smirks vindictively. “Mean,” Harry murmurs in her ear, but Louis can see her grinning from the corner of her eye.

“Can we agree to not talk about siblings having sex?” Niall asks calmly, pulling her snapback down over her head.

“You don’t know what Greg gets up to - “ Harry begins, then squeals when Louis smacks a hand over her mouth. Harry eyes Louis mournfully, then licks a huge stripe up Louis’ palm. Louis pulls away in disgust.

“That’s revolting,” Louis moans. “Okay, this is your spit, have it back.” She wipes her wet hand on Harry’s leg. Harry tries to jerk her knee away, only she just ends up smacking it on the table. Louis laughs so hard she thinks she’s going to cry, especially when Harry turns to her with tears in her eyes.

“Harry, how are you even allowed in public?” Niall snickers, shaking her head.

Harry pushes out her bottom lip, staring balefully at Louis. “Kiss it better.”

“Don’t kiss it better,” Liam groans, looking at Harry like she’s grown another head. “That is so unhygienic, don’t do it.”

Louis narrows her eyes. On the one hand, kissing Harry’s knee is completely gross, and could result in some kind of mouth disease. On the other hand, Harry will whine and moan and basically make puppy eyes at her for the rest of the day if she doesn’t, and Louis’ strength is draining away the longer she thinks.

“Fine,” Louis sighs, then bends down and just brushes her lips over Harry’s knee. She gets the brief taste of salt, then she sits straight back up, one eyebrow raised. “We good?”

“Oh, baby, not in public,” Harry giggles, and dodges Louis’ nipple twist. “I didn’t know you were such an exhibitionist.”

“You do know you two aren’t married?” Liam cuts in. Louis and Harry both snap their heads in her direction. “You and Harry aren’t actually a couple.”

“I think I may have threw up in my mouth a bit,” Niall adds helpfully. Louis just flips her off and hooks her ankle around Harry’s under the table.

Come to think of it, that’s probably not helping their case.

**  
**

 

-

**  
**

 

She and Liam walk home together after football practice. Louis has tried her best to cover up the smell of sweat with some crappy body spray from Superdrug, but she’s not sure how successful she was. She and Liam are still in their footie uniforms, bright blue shorts streaked with grass strains.

Liam offers her some water and Louis takes it gratefully. “Thanks.”

Liam just nods, long ponytail swinging back and forth. She’s been telling Louis she wants to cut it soon, but she won’t let Louis do it. Killjoy. “So.”

Louis knows that tone. “Liam.”

“Louis,” Liam answers, in the exact voice. Louis should have never taught her how to sass people. “Have you told her yet?”

Louis glares at her, but crumbles when she sees the genuine affection in Liam’s eyes. “Told who what?” Louis asks dully, kicking a pebble with the toe of her shoe. It bounces off into the road with a clatter. “Told my best friend I have a massive crush on her? Funnily enough, no.”

Liam bites her bottom lip, cheeks flushed pink from practice. “Louis, it’s kind of obvious, mate.”

Her heart knocks against her ribs, slams against them so hard she’s scared they’ll break the bone. “Shit, do you think she knows, Li - “

“Louis, chill,” Liam frowns, curving a hand around Louis’ arm. “I just meant obvious to everyone else. Harry is either as clueless as you, or knows and is pretending she doesn’t.”

“Fantastic,” Louis snaps, and Liam’s face falls. Louis swallows, feeling stupidly guilty. Liam doesn’t mean to put her foot in it, she’s just startlingly honest sometimes. “Do you really think she knows?”

Liam cocks her to one side, for all intents and purposes looking like a confused puppy. “I don’t know,” she says finally, glaring at Louis when Louis rolls her eyes. “Look, why don’t you just tell her? You know she likes girls.”

“I know,” Louis snaps, harsher than she means it, because she was the one who held Harry as she cried, admitting she liked girls too. She was the one who broke Max Parker’s nose for calling Harry a slut when Harry came out as bi. And when Harry’s last girlfriend told her she thought Harry would just cheat on her with a boy, Louis was the one who cuddled her all night.

“I know,” she mumbles, and Liam pulls her in for a hug. Louis burrows her face in Liam’s neck, hugs her so tight she must be digging her nails in, but Liam doesn’t so much as flinch.

Truthfully, Louis’ been half in love with Harry since the day she met her. They met in the school bathrooms, both titchy Year 7s. Louis had a questionable side parting, whilst Harry had a rucksack that had weighed about the same as she did.

They’d been inseparable since. And then Louis had kissed Alison James at a birthday party, half drunk on adrenaline and stolen booze. It hadn’t been a huge shock that she preferred kissing girls to clumsy gropes by Year 10 boys who thought they were experts in female anatomy, but the fact that she’d wanted to be kissing Harry.

“Lou, I think you should just tell her,” Liam says earnestly, pulling back and gazing at her. Louis feels her heart squeeze, as if someone is crushing it with their hands. She glances away, gritting her teeth and rubbing at her stinging eyes.

“Can’t do that, Li,” Louis sniffs. She pulls away, knocking their hands together. “Not as brave as you.”

Liam snorts, tangling their hands together. She’s not even remotely phased that two girls are holding hands walking down the street, and Louis loves her fiercely. “Not that brave. I remember some serious hand-holding when I came out as ace.”

Louis squeezes her hand. “I wasn’t that much of a help. I didn’t even really know what it was.”

Louis remembers when Liam had come out to her (because Louis is apparently the LGBT guru - Niall jokes about their little group practically being a pride parade).

When she thinks back on it, she cringes at how ignorant she’d been. They’d been watching the Avengers, curled up on Louis’ bed, sharing a tub of raspberry ripple. Louis had been waxing lyrical about she’d wanted to get between Natasha Romanov’s legs, possibly Maria Hill’s.

Liam had squirmed a bit, then said in a low voice, “Louis.”

Louis knew that was Liam’s ‘serious’ voice, like the time she’d burnt Niall’s lasagne in food tech. Year 7 Liam had actually cried, she’d felt so bad. It was okay in the end because Mrs Teasdale had a soft spot for Niall, but from then on Louis had been determined to take this puppy of a girl under her wing.

“Yeah?”

Liam had swallowed, looking down at her hands. “You know - you know how you think the Black Widow is really hot? And you’d, like, sleep with her?”

“I guess so,” Louis shrugged, “not like it’s going to happen.”

Liam had gripped the duvet, so hard her hands were white. “I don’t - I don’t want any of that.”

Louis dropped her spoon in her bowl, Liam flinching at the clang. “Uh. Okay?”

“I don’t want to have sex with the Black Widow,” Liam had snapped, then let out a hysterical giggle. “I mean - I don’t think I want to have sex with anyone. Ever. I just... nothing about it appeals to me. Even if it was Scarlett Johannson. Even if it was Chris Evans, I don’t - I don’t want that.”

Louis had been fourteen and stupidly uneducated, but even she knew this was something serious. Part of her knew saying, ‘maybe you just need a boyfriend,’ would be the stupidest thing to ever come out of her mouth.

So instead she had hugged Liam, and then they had borrowed her mum’s laptop. They’d fallen asleep to the light of the laptop, open to about a billion tabs about something called ‘asexuality.’

It hadn’t been easy. Louis had put her foot in it more times than she could count, but she’d apologised profusely, then made sure to go and learn more. Together they’d realised that your romantic orientation wasn't necessarily the same as your sexual one, and that Liam was asexual, but biromantic, and she didn’t necessarily mind kissing, as long as it wasn’t overly sexual.

There was this sudden plethora of new information, all these different stories and facts and information. “Everyone’s different,” Liam had told her once, eyes shining as she showed her a web page. “I’m not just asexual, there’re loads of different things I can be.”

“You didn’t know what it was,” Liam acknowledges, snapping Louis back to the present. “But you tried. And you didn’t make me feel like a freak.”

“You’re not a freak, Liam,” Louis argues, clenching Liam’s hand tightly. “Loads of people are asexual. Doesn’t mean you can’t have relationships - that’s what you told me, right?”

“Don’t change the topic,” Liam chastises, but the corner of her mouth tilts. “Actually, there is this really nice girl in my art class.”

Louis promptly jumps on that, forcing Liam to tell her about how she’d like to hold hands with ‘Sophia,’ and doesn’t let the conversation wander back to Harry. The fact that this is nearly impossible probably indicates how fucked she is.

**  
**

 

-

**  
**

 

Harry comes over on Friday night. They don’t really discuss it, Harry just follows her home and Louis doesn’t comment.

“Harry!” Daisy squeals the moment she sees her. She runs at Harry who scoops her up, Daisy’s skinny arms thrown around her neck. “Lou didn’t say you were coming.”

“I didn’t know Harry was coming,” Louis say dryly, ruffling Phoebe’s hair. “Phoebe, you’re five, don’t suck your thumb.”

Phoebe looks at her with all the dignity of a five year old, then jams her thumb back into her mouth. Louis just rolls her eyes and flicks the kettle on. Her mum doesn’t have the night shift today, so she’ll definitely want a cup of tea.

“Are you staying for tea?” Daisy demands, now perched on Harry’s hip. “Louis isn’t cooking, so you can.”

“Oi, I’m not that bad,” Louis frowns, sticking her tongue out at Daisy. Harry clears her throat pointedly, so Louis flips her off when the twins aren’t looking. “Okay, monkeys, go tell mum there’s a cup of tea in here.”

Daisy smacks a big kiss onto Harry’s cheek before she scrambles off her, Phoebe waving shyly before scampering off. Louis rolls her eyes, heading over to the cupboards, searching for the mugs.

Louis hears the soft pad of footsteps, then a warm body presses against her back. Louis exhales sharply, the sound like a gunshot in the sudden silence. Her stomach clenches, heart pounding as she feels Harry press closer, the heat of Harry’s body bleeding into Louis’ skin. She can feel the soft brush of Harry’s breasts against her back. She wonders if Harry’s nipples are hard, if they’re visible through her cotton shirt. She can feel herself begin to get wet, heat flashing in her stomach as Harry crowds closer.

“I want the pink mug,” Harry breathes, hot air licking over Louis’ neck. Then she grabs the mug and backs away.

Louis feels the sudden space between them like a slap in the face, the sharp shock of cold water when you jump into a pool. She closes her eyes, hands clenched on the worktop as she tries to calm down.

“You want one?” Harry asks, utterly oblivious to Louis’ miniature panic attack. “Babe, do you want a cup of tea?”

Babe. Louis is dead. Louis is so dead. She’s a walking corpse over here, oh and apparently she’s hysterical. Well this is just a giant train wreck.

“Yeah, thanks,” Louis says breezily, turning around. She deliberately doesn’t look at Harry, snatching the cup off the side so she doesn’t have to touch Harry’s hand. Some of the tea slops over the edge, and she fights a wince as it burns the skin of her hand.

Harry eyes her weirdly, but thankfully then Jay wanders in, successfully distracting Harry. “Hey, Jay, here’s your tea.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Jay smiles, taking the mug from Harry gratefully. “Are you staying for tea?”

Harry dimples prettily. Louis has to look away. “Yes please.”

Jay nods, curling her hand around the cup. “I think we’re going to get take away, so I might send you girls down to pick up Dominos.”

“Can we get meat feast?” Louis asks, hoisting herself up onto the counter. She dangles her feet back and forth, feet bumping the front of the cupboard. “Shit, the twins won’t eat that. Actually, we could get ham and mushroom for them.”

“I’ll leave some money out,” Jay answers, “pick something everyone will like. If you can head down about six, that’d be great.”

“Okay,” Louis agrees. She finishes off her tea quickly, wincing as it burns her tongue. Liam’s always telling her to wait until it cools down, but Louis can never be bothered. “Come on, Harriet.”

“Not my name,” Harry says automatically, but she dumps her own mug in the sink. Louis knows she’ll wash it up if she lets her, so she drags Harry away.

“Louis, your room is a tip,” Harry moans. She picks up Louis’ pajama shorts, lobbing them into a corner of the room. “I think those had fungus on them.”

“Shut up,” Louis says good-naturedly. “Right, do you want to watch Winter Soldier or Amazing Spider Man Two?”

Harry wrinkles her nose. “Not Spider Man, because I always cry when Gwen dies, and then you laugh at me.”

“I don’t laugh at you,” Louis huffs, “I am very supportive, even when you’re clinging to me like I’m a lifeboat. Anyway, everyone cries when Gwen dies. It’s traumatic, innit.”

Harry gives her a dirty look, then flops down onto Louis’ bed. Louis’ mouth goes dry as Harry stretches out on the bed. She’s all lean limbs, a slither of tanned skin visible as her shirt rides up. Louis tears her eyes away and shoves the DVD in, then clambers onto the bed.

Louis always feels hideously guilty whenever they do this, whenever her and Harry curl around each other like a pair of kittens. Harry has always been tactile, and she and Louis have never been able to keep their hands off each other, sliding together like two puzzle pieces.

But Louis just feels guilty now, as if she’s taking advantage of her. Thank god she’s not a boy, or awkward boners would be rife. Ten out of ten for vaginas all round.

Harry will find it even weirder if Louis suddenly imposes a personal space rule though, so she keeps it up. Not to mention a tiny, teeny, awful part of her likes being curled up to Harry, pressed together until there’s no space between them.

They end up with their legs tangled together, Harry curled like a comma so she can rest her head on Louis’ stomach. Louis slides her hands into Harry’s hair, carding through the strands and gently tugging on any tangles until they are smooth.

“Do you think I passed my exams?” Harry mumbles, words pressed into Louis’ skin. Louis can feel the vibrations of Harry’s lips, imagine the words sinking into her blood, golden and burning. “The last question in Sociology was so hard.”

“Haz,” Louis murmurs, carefully pulling a curl away from her face. “You revised really hard. I know you’ll be fine. I’m the one who almost bombed my GCSEs. I don’t know how I’m even going to scrape by in Year 12.”

“You’re not dumb, Louis,” Harry says clearly, twisting to face her. Louis had shut the curtains, the room washed in greyscale, shadows licking over Harry’s face. It makes her eyes even brighter. “I don’t know why you always think that.”

Louis pulls a face, crossing her eyes and sticking out her tongue. The thing is, she knows she’s not as smart as Harry, or as dedicated as Liam. Niall is rubbish at some things, but sharp as a whip at others. All Louis wants to do is pass sixth form, somehow make it to uni, then teach drama to little kids. Louis is good at drama, and she has four younger siblings, so surely that won’t fail.

“Sh, Gwen is dumping Peter,” Louis insists. Harry narrows her eyes at her, but turns back to the screen. Louis settles back against the pillows, breathing out. Chances are Harry will bring it up later though - she always calls Louis out on her shit.

On the screen Gwen goes back to the Chinese place. It’s quiet, the atmosphere soft and calm. Harry’s hair is smooth under her fingers. Harry shifts a little, then begins to stroke Louis’ hip bone. It’s a repetition of Harry’s actions in the lunch hall, Harry’s fingers tracing the same patterns.

Louis’ mum calls up the stairs about halfway through the film. Harry stretches like a cat, yawning sleepily. Louis wanders over to her wardrobe to grab some shoes, then smiles when she glances over.

“You look like a sleepy kitten,” she teases softly. Harry rubs her eyes, blinking blearily. Her mouth is slack, pink lips slightly slick as Harry swipes her tongue over them. There are errant curls sticking up everywhere, and, before she can think about it, Louis steps forward.

Louis smooths down the strands, hands sliding through Harry’s hair easily. She’s acutely aware of how close they are. There are flecks of gold in Harry’s eyes, and they’re close enough that they’re sharing each other’s air.

“There you go. Perfect,” Louis whispers, the words hanging between them on a silver string. Harry meets her eyes and Louis feels her stomach flip, the emotions in Harry’s eyes flitting by too fast for Louis to clarify them.

She steps back, the string snapping and falling away. “Come on.”

 **  
**  
  


-

**  
**

Niall corners her in the bathroom on Monday morning. Well, it’s less like she corners her, and more like Niall just stands there with a passive expression on her face, until Louis cracks.

“What?” Louis snaps, glaring at the other girl. She’s trying to do her make up before school, because the twins kept her up all night and she overslept.

“Does Harry know you fancy the pants off her?” Niall asks casually. Louis jabs herself in the eye with her eyeliner pencil.

“Niall,” Louis hisses. Her vision is going blurry from her watery eye. “Did you have to do that just then?”

Niall leans against the wall, shrugging. Today she’s in skinny jeans and a ripped black vest, pink bandeau visible from the sides. “Everybody knows.”

Louis scowls at herself in the mirror. “Why does everyone keep saying that?” Shit, her eyeliner looks like she’s been taking lessons from the Winter Soldier. Or a raccoon.

“Uh, because you two are dumb and unable to keep it in your pants,” Niall snorts. “Do you want a makeup wipe?”

Louis contemplates saying no because Niall is a traitor, but she does really look like Bucky Barnes. “Yeah, okay.”

Niall hands one over. “So are you going to tell her? Or are you just going to keep staring at her like a serial killer?”

“Um, option two,” Louis drawls after a pause. She wipes the excess eyeliner off her face carefully, squinting her eyes a little. “What’s the point, Niall? If she doesn’t like me back then I’ve lost my best friend.”

“Harry wouldn’t -” Niall begins, but Louis cuts her off.

“Yeah, I know she wouldn’t make me feel bad about it, but you can’t deny it would be awkward. She’d always wonder and I’d always wonder, and eventually it’d all fall apart.”

“Louis,” Niall says gently. She slides a finger under Louis’ chin, lifting her chin up so she meets Niall’s eyes. “Are you sure Harry doesn’t like you too? You two are attached at the hip, maybe you should -”

“Leave it, Niall,” Louis snaps, jerking her face away. She feels as though there are a thousand butterflies in her stomach, flapping wildly and battering against her ribcage. “There’s no point in risking it.”

Niall wrinkles her nose, but doesn’t argue. “Okay. If that’s what you want, Lou.”

“It is,” Louis says flatly, the lie bitter and harsh on her tongue.

“Okay,” Niall repeats, and she slides an arm around Louis’ waist. Neither of them say anything when Louis leans into her. **  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big thank you everyone who cheerleaded this - my lovely betas I have already mentioned, but huge hugs for you again :)
> 
> general thanks to sarah, frances, amemorymaze, addisonlou and nobetterbumlinson on tumblr, love you all :)

- **  
**

They all go to a party the next Friday. It’s one of Stan’s friends who invites them, so they all get ready at Niall’s beforehand. Niall pours out shots but doesn’t explain what is in them, so Louis is already feeling buzzed by the time they get there.

“Louis!” Stan yells when he opens the door. His face is flushed red, eyes glassy, and he shoves a red cup into her hand.

Louis takes one look at Harry, who is in a sheer shirt, tiny shorts and six inch heels, and downs it in one go.

She lets herself get pulled into the crowd, Stan’s fingers forming a sweaty loop around her wrist. Liam and Niall are chatting to some other girls, and she doesn’t even know where Harry is. Harry is ridiculously popular, so she’s likely being attacked by one of her many minions.

“You okay, Louis?” Stan asks, tugging her into the kitchen. There’s a couple in the corner with their tongues down each other’s throats, whilst Perrie and Jade are playing some kind of card game at the table. Louis doesn’t understand the rules, but every time there’s a red card, the two girls take a shot.

“Yeah,” Louis answers absent-mindedly, eyes flitting over the kitchen. Stan raises an eyebrow, pursing his lips. “Okay, maybe not.”

“What’s the matter?” Stan asks, leaning against the counter. Louis sighs, twisting her hands. She’s halfway to drunk, she looks fucking amazing in her red dress and heels, there’s a beer pong game going on somewhere that she knows she can obliterate, but all she can think about is her best friend.

“Harry,” Louis mumbles, barely audible over the music thumping through her bones, but Stan nods in understanding. “Don’t know what to do, Stan.”

“Drink,” Stan suggests, and Louis snorts. She does down a cup of some suspicious concoction Stan makes - why does no one tell her what she’s drinking any more? - but she’s not really in the mood.

Stan pulls her in for a hug, arms comforting, and Louis can feel the sharp prickle of tears at the corner of her eyes. They sway in the kitchen for a bit, Stan laughing softly in her hair. “It’ll be okay,” Stan says when he pulls back. He ruffles her hair, grinning when Louis bats his hand away. “Just wait and see.”  
  
Louis chats with him in the kitchen for a bit, catching up. It’s kind of fun surveying everything around them. A couple of girls stumble in, wrapped together like vines. Another girl drags in her friend, pouring a cup of water and grinning wryly at Louis. Stan tells her about his sisters, how he might try out for the local football team and for a moment, just a moment, Louis forgets about the bone-deep aching of her heart.

She wanders off to find Liam after a little while. The night air is cool against her skin, running cold fingers over her bare arms. Whoever’s house it is has a garden, and she wrinkles her nose at the smell of smoke. The grass tickles her feet in her shoes, and she spots Liam sitting in the tiny gazebo.

“Leeyum,” Louis croons, padding over. She flops down onto Liam’s lap, Liam’s arms sliding securely around her waist. She blinks at the brunette girl opposite them. “Hello, Liam’s friend.”

“Sophia,” the brunette girl grins, and Louis wiggles in Liam’s lap to make a face at her.

“Are you drunk?” Liam asks fondly, crinkling her eyes at her. Louis rolls her eyes, patting Liam on the cheek.

“Not really.” She swivels her head to look at Sophia, narrowing her eyes. In all fairness, Sophia is quite fit, wearing a tight black dress and heels. “Alright, Sophia?”

“Louis,” Liam hisses, so Louis leaves it. Sophia just looks amused, her eyes lingering on Liam for a beat too long. Louis wiggles back round, smacking a kiss on Liam’s forehead.

“Come get me if anything happens,” Louis whispers, then gives Sophia the side eye as she slides off Liam’s lap. Sophia is probably a very nice girl, but Louis isn’t afraid to rip her into tiny shreds if she has to.

She heads back inside, stumbling around listlessly. She chats to Jesy Nelson for a bit, but she’s distracted. It’s only when her neck begins to ache that she realises she’s been craning it for a look of Harry. She is so pathetic it’s not even funny.

Niall is dancing with Bressie in the corner, so Louis snaps her gaze over to them instead. She giggles when she sees the look on Bressie’s face: he doesn’t seem to know where to put his hands, towering above Niall’s tiny body. Despite that, he looks totally smitten, lips pulled up into a smile and affection shining in his eyes.

It makes Louis feels sad, a hollow, aching pang resonating in her chest. She wobbles on her feet, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip. There’s this horrible feeling in her stomach like she’s crumbling, jagged slashes along her edges, more and more of her being plucked away and crumpled.

She looks away again, but that’s worse because then she sees Harry.

Harry, who is standing so close to Nick Grimshaw that they’re sharing the same air. Nick’s hands are slung easily around Harry’s waist, her long fingers spread over Harry’s hips. Harry’s arms are wrapped around Nick’s neck, rings glinting in the light. Nick bends down to whisper something in Harry’s ear, her hair teased into that stupid fucking quiff. Harry leans closer to hear better, their hips bumping.

Louis feels as though she’s going to throw up. Bile rises in her throat as jealousy rips through her like a gunshot. She feels sick and achy and itchy, her heart smacking against her ribs again and again.

“Louis. Louis.” Niall stops in front of her, blocking her view, and Louis feels all the air rush back into her lungs. “Are you okay?”

Louis closes her eyes, threading her hands through her hair. The image of Harry and Nick burns on the inside of her eyelids, and she tugs on the end strands, flinching at the sharp jolt of pain.

“Hey, none of that.” Niall gently pulls her hands away. Her tone is soft, as if she’s talking to a frightened animal. “What’s the matter, babe?”

“Harry and Nick,” Louis mumbles, the words bitter in her mouth. Her throat feels scraped raw, as if she’s swallowed glass. “Ni - I can’t.”

Bressie is hovering awkwardly, Louis’ cheeks burn when she catches his gaze. Bressie hesitates, then pats her shoulder. Jesus, Louis is going to cry. She’s going to cry and her makeup is going to go everywhere. Louis is going to look like a raccoon and then Harry definitely won’t want her.

Niall opens her mouth to say something, but Bressie speaks before she does. “Do you want a Mars bar?”

Niall blinks at her. Louis’ bottom lip stops trembling momentarily. “Um. Okay.”

“I’m friends with Niall,” Bressies shrugs, as if that explains everything. Which it kind of does, so Louis takes the Mars bar.

Niall twines their hands together, Louis smiling when she glances down and sees her chipped, blue nail polish. “Breslin, we are going to the bathroom to chat about lady things, can you stand outside and make sure no one comes in?”

Bressie smiles. “Sure.”

Niall looks as though she’s one second away from sucking Bressie’s dick. It shocks a laugh out of Louis, a giggle bubbling up in her chest. She rubs at her eyes, wincing at how gritty they feel. “It’s okay, Niall. I just - it just surprised me.”

Honestly, it felt like someone had punched her in the face. She can’t shake the uneasy feeling in her stomach, the way her skin prickles in discomfort. Niall doesn’t look convinced, blue eyes sharp and head cocked like a pretty bird.

“It’s fine,” Louis insists. There’s only a tiny tremor in her voice. She clears her throat, and when she speaks again it comes out cold, hard as steel. “Can we just go somewhere else?”

“Okay,” Niall replies easily. She squeezes Louis’ hands, sliding their palms together and leading them out of the room.

They collapse onto a sofa in one of the other rooms. It’s quieter in here, the soft echoes of the music drifting through the door. Niall snuggles into Bressie’s side, blond head tucked into the curve of his neck. Louis flops down next to her, shoving her feet in Niall’s lap and resting her head back against the sofa.

She can hear the soft whisper of Niall and Bressie’s conversation, but in all honesty Louis almost falls asleep. She scrunches her eyes shut, letting her mind wander. It’s comfy on the sofa, Niall gently rubbing her ankles with warm, calloused hands.

Louis can feel her eyelids getting heavier, sleep slowly dragging her under. The door bangs open but Louis doesn't bother moving.

“Boo bear!” a raspy voice cheers, and oh fuck.

Louis lifts her head slowly. Harry is standing there, one arm slung around Nick’s waist, another bunched in Nick’s shirt. Her lips are slack and apple-red, her eyes hazy and glassed over. Louis can see how she’s leaning her weight on Nick, almost toppling over with the effort.

She swallows. “Hey, Haz.”

“Why have you got a Mars bar?” Nick asks, squinting at her.

Louis glances down. The Mars bar Bressie got her is squashed down the side of the sofa. Louis pokes it mournfully. She’s never going to be able to eat it now. Fuck. She might start crying again.

“Why have you got a Mars bar?” Louis snaps back, which doesn’t even make sense. Nick raises an eyebrow, eyeliner flicking out at the ends. Louis doesn’t even hate Nick, she hates the fact Harry doesn’t hate Nick and thus drapes over her like an over enthusiastic puppy, because Harry is tactile as fuck.

“Boo bear,” Harry whines, blinking at her. Louis watches the slow slide of her eyelashes against her cheek, then snaps her gaze away. “Boo, I am so drunk.”

“Boo bear?” Nick snorts. She tightens her hand on Harry’s waist and Louis feels bile rise in her throat. “Can I call you boo bear?”

“Fuck off,” Louis scowls. Niall nudges her gently. Louis sighs. “Fuck off, _please_.”

Nick shrugs. “Gladly.” She turns to Harry, Harry’s curls stuck to her pale neck like vines. “Want to get out of here, love?”

It’s like a punch to the stomach. Louis inhales, the sound wet. Her eyes are burning. She actually is going to throw up now.

“Niall,” Louis whispers, “Ni - “ 

Niall looks at her with sad eyes, mouth parted. She grabs Louis’ wrist, but then Harry clears her throat. “Nooo thanks, Nicholas.”

Nick stares at her. Louis stares at her. Harry sways a bit more and hiccups. “Um, no?” Nick repeats, blinking rapidly. Louis feels like she’s on a rollercoaster, going up and up and up but not sure how steep the drop is yet.

“Got to go home with Lewis,” Harry mumbles, and Louis is tumbling down, down, down, stomach swooping with exhilaration. Harry wiggles out of Nick’s grip, and flops inelegantly into Louis’ lap.

Drunk Harry has even less coordination than sober Harry, so Harry’s limbs flail everywhere. Louis blinks at the sudden lapful of ungainly teenage girl, hands coming to rest on Harry’s hips instinctively.

Harry blinks at her, eyes very green and very close. “Oops.”

“Hi,” Louis answers, and tries to ignore how sweaty her hands are.

Harry snuggles closer, trying to tuck her head under Louis’. She’s like a great dane puppy that doesn’t realise how big it is, tucking her body into a ball in an attempt to appear smaller than she is. Louis gently tilts her head up, pushing an errant curl back. “You alright, darling?”

Niall glances at her at the endearment, but Louis can let herself be a bit sloppy. Harry is pretty drunk, hopefully she won’t remember. Niall raises her eyebrows, but Louis feels as though she’s dancing on a knife’s edge, one foot in front of the other with sheer drops on each side.

“Sleepy,” Harry mutters. Louis feels a damp press against her neck, and a shock rips through her as she realises it’s Harry’s lips. “Time to go to bed now.”

“Okay,” Louis agrees, “up then, you have to help me, babe.”

Harry wriggles around a bit, before climbing off Louis. Louis slides an arm around her waist, steadying her. Harry leans into her, nuzzling at her neck, and god, normally Louis can handle the way Harry becomes a kitten when she’s drunk, but this is all a bit much tonight.

Niall is already pulling Bressie up, giggling when she barely moves him. Louis tugs Harry along with her, then hesitates when she realises that Nick is still standing there. Louis feels a pang of guilt when she sees Nick’s face, a nasty blend of guilt and jealousy and a little bit of smugness.

“Bye, Haz,” is all Nick says, before she turns on her heels and walks out. Louis can’t bring herself to care that much, not when she has to round up the other member of their little flock.

Thankfully, Liam is just coming to find them, so they’re able to slip out pretty swiftly. Louis assesses Liam quickly, concerned, but Liam is shining like a star, her eyes glowing. Louis lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding; the girls tease her for being a mama bear, but Liam’s gone through enough shit and she doesn’t need to go through anymore.

“How drunk is Harry?” Liam snorts. It’s dark as they trudge home, gravel crunching under their feet. It sounds like a gunshot in the quiet, and when Louis looks up she can see the stars.

“Do you think I look like a frog?” Harry mumbles then, and Liam barks out a laugh.

“There’s your answer,” Louis smirks. She nudges Harry gently. “You don’t look like a frog.”

“Liar,” Niall snorts, hand in hand with Bressie. “You look a bit like a frog. And you have a nose like a penis.”

Liam practically doubles over with laughter, while Harry glares at Niall. Well, she glares at the tree two inches to the left of Niall, but it’s a valiant effort. “Shut up.”

Louis pats her hand. “It’s okay, Haz. Your nose isn’t that bad.”

Harry just pouts adorably, kicking a pebble. She overshoots and almost topples over, causing Louis to grab her arm again. “Harry, if you crack your skull on the pavement, your mum is going to kill me.”

“I like fields,” Harry mutters, staring intently at the ground. Louis gives up trying to decipher Harry’s drunken ramblings and concentrates on getting her home.

 ****  
  
  
  


-

 ****  
  


Harry stumbles to the bathroom and promptly throws up.

Louis sighs, wincing at the bright light of her bedroom. She drops her heels on the bed, running a hand through her hair, then pads to the bathroom.

Harry is hunched over the toilet, skin pale and clammy. Her curls are damp against her neck, little strands sticking to the skin. Louis crouches down beside her, gently pushing her hair back. She slides a hair tie off her wrist, tying Harry’s hair into a loose bun.

Harry moans, the sound so pitiful it makes Louis’ stomach clench. “Sorry, Lou.”

“It’s okay,” Louis murmurs, palm moving in slow circles on Harry’s back. She can feel how hot Harry’s skin is, burning up under her hand. “What did you even drink?”

“Ask Nick,” Harry groans, doubling over again. Louis winces at the acrid smell of vomit, Harry’s eyelashes fluttering in pain. “Shit. I am never drinking again.”

“You’re never drinking with Nick again,” Louis corrects. “You done?”

“Think so,” Harry whimpers. She doesn’t look as green now, which Louis is taking as a positive sign. Her eyes are wet, the colour of spring leaves and shining with tears.

Louis hands her the mouthwash, then a cold flannel. Harry spits into the sink, then wipes her mouth delicately. The light in the bathroom is dim, and Louis traces the lines of Harry’s body, her slender legs, the soft curve of her hips, the angles of her cheekbones and her long fingers. She’s beautiful and ethereal and Louis loves her even though she threw up two minutes ago.

“Can we go to bed now?” Harry asks. Her voice is raspy, like a long drag of black coffee. She reaches for Louis blindly, and Louis joins their hands automatically. Harry lets Louis lead her to her bedroom, pliant and quiet.

Louis flicks on her bedside light, soft light spreading through the room. She wriggles out of her dress, flinging it on the floor. Harry is sitting on the bed, rubbing her eyes like a sleepy child. Louis pads over to her, kneeling between her legs.

“Got to get your shoes off,” Louis mutters.

She slides a hand up the smooth skin of Harry’s ankle, mouth dry. This suddenly feels more intimate than anything they’ve ever done, kneeling between Harry’s legs as shadows dance across their faces. Louis inhales shakily, sliding her fingers under the clasp. Harry shivers at the motion, whole body trembling. She slides the shoe off slowly, fingers catching on the jut of Harry’s ankle.

It’s so quiet. So, so quiet. Louis can hear the soft inhale as Harry breathes in, the slow tap of rain against the window. Harry’s skin looks silver in the shadows, and she lets Harry’s heels drop to the floor.

Slowly, so slowly that she doesn’t even realise she’s doing it, she leans forward. She presses a kiss to the inside of Harry’s thigh, the brush of lips against smooth skin. It’s chaste, tentative. She wonders if the imprint will burn under Harry’s skin, golden sparks in her bloodstream.

It’s so quiet.

“Go to sleep, Haz,” Louis orders softly.

She climbs into the other side of the bed, and her eyes are burning.  
   
   
   


 

-

 ****  
  
  


 

“Do you think I can make up the events of the Russian revolution?”

Louis ignores Niall in favour of dropping her head on the table instead. It’s Monday lunchtime and too early for Niall’s bullshit. Louis just came out of a two hour psychology lesson and she feels she needs to detox after learning about all that Freudian bullshit. She’ll never look her mum in the eye again.

“I reckon I can,” Niall says confidently. She taps her pen on the table. Niall will probably get away with it in all fairness, all the teachers love her. “I watched Anastasia with Theo on Sunday, I can just paraphrase that.”

Louis grunts. “Sounds great.”

Niall hums, scribbling something down. “So.”

Louis sighs. “Niall, don’t.”

“I thought you were going to murder Nick,” Niall says casually, pushing a strand of blond hair behind her ear. She’s in an oversized dark shirt today, that Louis is pretty certain belongs to Bressie. “Bressie says you’re terrifying.”

“Bressie is a smart man,” Louis sniffs, sitting up a bit. “Smarter than half of the male population. Did you fuck on Saturday night?”

Niall looks at her seriously. “I don’t think my lady parts are ever going to be the same again.”

“Bressie is hot,” Louis admits, sighing a little. “If I wasn’t a raging lesbian then Bressie would do, I guess.”

“If you weren’t a raging lesbian and Harry didn’t exist,” Niall corrects. “As if you’d even look at someone else with Harry around. It would have to be a different universe or something. Like Spider-Man.”

Louis rolls her eyes. “How is that like Spider-Man?”

Niall shrugs. “Well, sometimes Spider-Man is Andrew Garfield, and sometimes he’s that other guy. So you’d have to be in a universe where there is no Harry. A Louis-with-no-Harry world.”

A Louis-with-no-Harry world doesn’t sound very nice. “I don’t want to live in that universe. Tell me about the one where we are all in a boy band.”

“Shut up,” Niall snaps, and Louis cracks up. “It was a dream, I told you.”

“Who had the biggest dick?” Louis asks seriously once she stopped laughing. “It was me, right? I know it was me.”

“I don’t dream such filth,” Niall replies primly. “Why do you have to have such a dirty mind all the time?”

“Is this the boy band dream again?” Liam asks, wandering over. “Niall, you’re really weird sometimes.”

Niall just huffs and pulls out a packet of Wotsits. She doesn’t offer one to Liam, which shows how irritated she is. She never bothers offering one to Louis, because a) if Louis wants one she’ll just take it, or b) Harry will just give her half of her lunch anyway.

“I’m guessing you didn’t tell Harry how you feel then?” Liam asks brightly. Louis chokes on the bite of sandwich she just took, and Liam has to smack her on the back.

“Shut up,” Louis hisses, eyes streaming. “No, I fucking didn’t, don’t just say that, Liam.”

Liam doesn’t even look apologetic. If anything she looks disappointed, like this is all Louis’ fault. “Fine. But in a week when you and Harry are having sex in the changing rooms, you better thank me.”

Louis tries to ignore what the words ‘you and Harry’ and ‘sex’ in the same sentence does to her. “Shut up, Liam.”

“You’re blushing,” Niall notes.

Louis scowls. “I’m fucking not.”

She fucking is. It feels as if her whole face is on fire. Liam gives her a pitying look, which only makes Louis’ irritation spark like a match to a flame. She’s about to verbally destroy Liam, when Harry flumps down next to her.

“Harry, tell Liam - “ Louis begins, then peers at Harry curiously. “Um, are you okay?”

Harry’s eyes are glassy and wide. Her bottom lip is red and slick, as if she’s been biting it. Louis reaches for her instinctively, stomach lurching at the apprehension and panic shining in Harry’s eyes. “Babe, are you okay? Haz?”

“Nick asked me out,” Harry blurts, and Louis’ whole world stops.

It’s like everything freezes, time slowing to a standstill. Louis can see Harry’s lips moving but she can’t hear it; it’s like she’s underwater, everything numb, sounds nothing more than distant echoes. Nick asked Harry out.

“Louis, she didn’t say yes,” Niall says loudly, and everything rushes back, too fast, making her dizzy.

“What?” Louis gapes. She snaps her head to the side, staring at Harry’s face. Her whole body feels like it’s in shock, shivers running over her skin. “But you like Nick - I don’t - “

Why are you fucking giving her reasons to say yes, Louis’ brain yells, and she shuts her mouth so quickly she winces.

“I don’t like Nick like that,” Harry answers slowly. Louis has never been so thankful for Harry’s slow drawl, each word taking double the time to process. Harry swallows, tongue darting out to wet pink lips. “And she wanted to go out on Wednesday, so.”

Shit. Does Harry have something against the third day of the week? Fuck, Louis better never take her out on a Wednesday again -

“It’s the day of your football match, Lou,” Harry says loudly. She stresses the word, as if she’s speaking to a small child. She might as well be: Louis wouldn’t be surprised if the emotional whiplash has lead to her losing half her years.

“So?” Louis really doesn’t get what is going on. She glances at Niall and Liam, but they look pretty clued in. Louis looks back at Harry, and has to inhale at how closes their faces are. It really doesn’t improve her clarity.

“It’s the last match of the season,” Harry enunciates. “Lou, I would never miss your last match. Gems helped me make a sign and everything. I’m always there.”

“She’s going to your match instead of a date,” Niall summarizes. She wiggles her eyebrows at Louis, then makes rapid gestures towards her crotch. Jesus Christ, all her friends are on crack.

“Thanks, Haz,” Louis says finally. She swallows, looking down at her scuffed Vans. She can’t let herself think this is more than Harry being friendly, can’t let her heart leap only to have it crashing back down. Regular gal pals. That’s it. “You’re a good friend.”

She doesn’t let herself look at Harry - it would break her, she knows, the truth resonating in her spine. Seeing the kind look on Harry’s face it would - it would be too much. Harry’s hands are in her eyeline though, and she watches as they ball into fists.

She feels Harry’s sigh as much as she hears it. “You’re welcome, Lou.”

“You’re a shower of cunts,” Niall scowls, making Louis and Harry jump, and refuses to talk to them for the rest of the day.  
   
   


 

 

-

 ****  
  
  


Harry lounges on her bed like she was made to be there.

Louis is trying to get ready for her match, but Harry is so bloody distracting. Her hair fans out behind her on Louis’ pillow, inky black and soft, soft, soft. Her mouth goes dry as Harry hums contentedly, curled on her side like a comma.

“You nervous yet?” Harry teases. Louis ignores her in favour of shoving her footie boots in her bag. They’re still flaked in grass from last practise, so she’s going to have to put her shirt in separately. “Oi, Tomlinson. I’m talking to you.”

“Talking shit,” Louis mumbles, searching for her socks. “Course I’m not nervous. Too old for that.”

“You’re full of crap,” Harry cackles, shaking her head. Her jade eyes glint with amusement. “I don’t know why you’re scared, you’ll be brilliant. You always are.”

Harry really needs to stop saying things like that, easy compliments that make Louis flush with pleasure, utter conviction that Louis is perfect that make warm waves of heat roll over her. Sometimes Harry looks at her like she holds the sun in her hands and Louis just - can’t.

“Have you seen my shirt?” Louis asks instead, turning away. She turns her back to Harry, rooting through her drawers and trying to ignore the tremor in the back of her hand.

“One of them is at my house,” Harry answers casually.

Louis turns, staring at her. “What?”

Harry frowns at her. “I always wear one of your football shirts.”

It’s not as though Harry is lying; for as long as Louis can remember, Harry had turned up to her matches in a royal blue shirt with Tomlinson printed on the back. When they were younger Louis had been taller than Harry, so the sleeves had draped over Harry’s hands. Harry had been this tiny kid with curly hair and dimples, drowning in a too-big shirt as she waved her sign enthusiastically.

“Oh. I forgot.” Louis didn’t forget, Louis is trying very hard to not imagine Harry wearing her shirt. Preferably lying on her bed. Naked. The flash of heat in her stomach and the way she’s starting to get wet, really isn’t helping.

“I can give it back,” Harry says quietly, her voice wavering. When Louis looks at her, Harry’s bottom lip is wobbling, and she immediately feels like she’s punched a kitten. Shit.

“You don’t have to give it back, Haz,” Louis sighs. She drops her shirt on the floor, padding over to the bed. “I was just wondering where it was.”

She slides an arm around the other girl, and Harry immediately snuggles into her. She nuzzles into Louis’ neck, placing a sloppy kiss there. “What’s up with you recently?” Harry mumbles, the words vibrating against Louis’ throat. “You’re being weird.”

“I’m not.” Louis flinches at the lie, clearing her throat to cover it. I’m in love with you, she wants to say, but the words die in her throat. She could never say them anyway. “It’s nothing, Haz.”

“I don’t believe you,” Harry says frankly, because Harry can see through the fronts Louis put up as easily as breathing. Her tone is laced with hurt, dipped in resignation. It makes Louis’ chest ache, makes her want to pull Harry into her arms and never let go.

“It’s nothing,” Louis repeats, the lie hanging in the air like a droplet of rain on a spider web. “I promise, Haz.”

Harry just pushes her down on the bed, green eyes thoughtful and the colour of cut grass. She pulls Louis close to her chest, legs tucked behind her thighs, and they don’t say anything for a long time.

Louis falls asleep to the sound of Harry’s heartbeat and wakes to her mum shouting up the stairs and telling her she needs to get ready.  
   
   


 

 

-

 ****  
  
  


They win the match, obviously. Louis never really doubted it, but it’s nice to have the confirmation, the indisputable blaring lights that spell out the result on the scoreboard.

Harry comes scampering off the seats to run into her arms, glittery sign dangling by her side. Louis spins her round, feels rather than hears the whispers pressed to her neck, and for the first time realises how much they act like a besotted couple. Niall raises her eyebrows at her from over Harry’s curls, but Louis just flips her off.

They all celebrate at Liam’s after, but they can’t get trashed because both Niall and Liam have work tomorrow, and ‘it’s a team effort, Tommo, Larry isn’t getting trashed.”

When Louis asks her who the fuck Larry is, Niall just cackles and says it’s a mash up of her and Harry’s names. Louis waits until Niall has gone to the loo, then puts salt in her diet coke.

Her mum and the girls are going to the zoo on Saturday - there was some kind of discount with the Tesco vouchers - but Louis declines and spends most of the morning snoozing. She’s just turning FIFA on whilst she waits for hair to dry from the shower, when the door to her bedroom slams open.

Louis jumps about a foot and drops the Xbox controller on her foot. “Ow, fucking hell.”

Harry is standing in door, looking absolutely gorgeous and very, very angry. Her brows are knitted and her hands are on her hips; she has cute little love handles, Louis notes, poking out over her denim shorts. Her hair is pulled back into a curly ponytail and she’s glowering at Louis.

“Hi,” Louis says cautiously, rubbing her big toe. “Did you see that, I dropped the controller on my foot, it fucking hurts. What if it goes septic?”

Harry opens her mouth, but then freezes. She looks a bit like a confused puppy. “Um, I don’t think it’ll go septic? I don’t think injuries can turn septic from just like. Dropping something on them. I think it has to be an open wound.”

Louis inspects her foot. It’s a bit pink, but she’ll take her chances. “Oh. What you doing here, then? Mum’s out but we could make mini pizzas.”

“Louis Tomlinson,” Harry breathes, striding forward. “Louis Tomlinson, I love you.”

Louis blinks and tries to ignore the flutter of her heart. “Um. Okay. I love you too?”

It’s not that weird of a declaration. They tell each they love each other at least six times a day. Niall tells Louis she loves her every Monday break time, like some annual romantic event.

“No.” Harry looks like a disgruntled kitten, scrunching up her nose and pouting. If she had ears they would flat on her head. “I love you.”

“Are you sick?” Louis asks worriedly, hopping off the bed. She presses a palm to Harry’s head, peering in her eyes. “You’re not dying, right?”

Harry bats her hand away. “No, I’m not dying.”

“Are you leaving?” Louis demands, scowling at her. “Are you finally going to live with Nick and her hipster clan in the wild of Scotland?”

“No, I’m not - “ Harry snaps, but then she starts giggling. She clamps a hand over her mouth, shaking her head. “Louis, I’m in love with you.”

“Yeah, I - “ Louis starts, then freezes. Her heart is beating so loudly that she can hear it in her ears, feels the rapid tempo echo in her bones and pound in her finger tips, her toes, the crook of her elbow.

“I’m in love with you,” Harry repeats, voice hoarse. “Like, properly in love with you, Lou, not in a mates way, like I wanna shag you and make you cookies and have your babies, and can you please say something because this is getting awkward - “

Louis surges forward, every nerve suddenly snapping into motion. She pushes Harry against the door, feels everything in flashes, touches the soft skin of her hips, sees the fire in Harry’s gaze, hears the hitch in her breathing as her back hits the door.

“I love you too,” Louis murmurs, and slides their lips together.

It’s not sweet, or gentle, because she and Harry have waited too long, far too long. Louis kisses her hard, tastes the faint hint of mint on Harry’s lips, marvels at how plush Harry’s mouth is. Harry whines into her mouth, and the electricity that crackles through Louis’ body is exhilarating.

Harry pushes backs, bites down on Louis’ bottom lip until she’s gasping. Harry immediately pushes her tongue into Louis’ mouth, and the feel of her tongue against Louis’ has Louis trembling. Harry kisses Louis like she’s the only thing in the world, claims her and cherishes her at the same time, and it’s heady and thrilling.

At some point Harry slips her thigh between Louis’ legs, and Louis moans at the way it feels against her throbbing pussy. There’s no doubt this is turning dirty, Harry’s hands grasping Louis’ arse and pulling her closer. Louis fists a hand in Harry’s curls and tugs, and the noise Harry makes doesn’t sound human.

“Fuck,” Harry swears, pulling back. “I’m fucking soaked, shit.”

“Jesus christ,” Louis pants, “Haz, you can’t just say that.”

“I love you,” Harry beams, and surges forward to kiss her again. It’s sloppy and a bit awkward, but Harry tastes like mint and her hair is on Louis’ cheek and Louis feels so happy she could cry.

“I love you too,” Louis grins, the words beautiful and shining in the open air. “Why didn’t you fucking tell me?”

“Sex first,” Harry orders, smirking. Louis flushes at the sight of Harry; her lips are cherry red and slick, her cheeks are coloured pink and jade eyes glassy. “You love me, I love you, let’s have sex or I think I’m going to come in my pants.”

Louis feels heat spark in her stomach, white hot and spreading through her like wildfire. Harry’s still pressed against the door, so Louis leans forward until her whole body is bracketing Harry’s.

“I’d bet you’d like that,” Louis murmurs. She trails one hand over Harry’s waist, dipping down, down, down until she feels the soft cotton of her underwear. “I’d bet you’d like if I played with you right here, got you absolutely soaking until it’s all too much.”

Harry squirms, keening high in her throat. “God, Louis. Please.”

Louis scrapes her teeth against Harry’s ear lobe, smirking as Harry whimpers. She doesn’t really know what she’s doing but there’s something about Harry, pliant and glassy eyed and pink with pleasure, that makes her want to push this.

“Come in your pants like a kid,” Louis mutters. She slips her hand further under Harry’s underwear, gasping when she feels how wet Harry is. Wet and hot and slick, and Louis slowly strokes Harry’s clit. “Get yourself so dirty, right, babe?”

“Louis, please,” Harry hiccups, and Louis cracks. She pulls her fingers out, kissing Harry hard. Harry returns it eagerly, biting down on her bottom lip, licking into her mouth, writhing like they’re on fire.

“Bed,” Louis whines when she pulls back, blinking dazedly. Kissing Harry is a bit like being too close to the sun, burning and brilliant but ending up dizzy. Louis is filled with such affection and fondness and so turned on she can’t fucking think.

“Bed,” Harry nods, sliding her hand around her wrist. “Come on.”

“Um.” Louis is still aware her fingers are sticky, which is slowly transitioning from really hot to a bit awkward. “Wait a sec, I have to, um - “

She’s about to say wash her hands, when Harry’s eyes flit down. She frowns, then slowly brings Louis’ fingers to her mouth. Louis can feel her jaw hanging open as Harry sucks on Louis’ fingers, swirling her tongue around them and nipping at the pads with her sharp teeth.

“Harry,” Louis groans when Harry releases her fingers with a pop. Harry is looking insanely pleased with herself, lips red and dimples carving into her cheeks. “Just - oh my god.”

“Tastes good,” Harry smirks, and heat flares in Louis’ stomach so suddenly that she almost keels over.

“Bed now,” Louis orders, and Harry cackles. She throws herself on the bed, pulling off her shirt and wriggling out of her jeans.

“Calm down,” Louis laughs, but then her mouth goes dry when Harry efficiently undoes her bra and flings it on the floor.

It’s not as though Louis hasn’t seen Harry naked before - Harry claims she likes to be ‘natural’ but Louis thinks she’s just a little tease - but this - this is different. This is different because Harry is snuggled into Louis’ pillow and she just told Louis she loved her, and Louis can’t handle this brimming golden feeling that is threatening to overflow in her chest.

“You have really nice boobs,” Louis says honestly, and Harry throws back her head and laughs.

“Take that off,” Harry croons, eyes lit like stars, “and come here.”

Louis slides out of her ratty joggers, tugging her old football shirt over her head. She hesitates before leaving her own underwear on; she wants to make Harry feel good right now.

Louis crawls up the bed until she’s leaning above Harry. Harry surges up and kisses her quick, pretty and flushed when she lays back again. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Louis beams, kissing her quickly on the nose. She makes a face. “We’re going to be one of those couples, aren’t we?”

Harry nods gravely. “Absolutely.”

Louis laughs, moving down Harry’s body. She kisses Harry’s collarbones, pressing her lips to the creamy skin. She wasn’t lying about Harry’s boobs: they’re big enough Louis could cup them easily, and her nipples are a light pink.

Cautiously, Louis blows lightly over one, grinning when Harry’s whole body tenses up. “Lou,” Harry murmurs, then cuts off with a moan when Louis closes her mouth around one nipple.

Louis rolls it gently with her tongue, then carefully scrapes it with her teeth. Harry practically howls when Louis does that, and Louis tucks that away in her mind for another day. Louis tugs on her nipple softly, and Harry arches her entire body into Louis’ mouth.

“I’m going to die,” Harry whimpers, and Louis pulls off, choking out a laugh.

“Please don’t die,” Louis grins, “I’m not really up for necrophilia.”

Harry gapes at her. “How do you even know what that is?”

“Niall,” Louis says seriously, and Harry cracks up. Louis grins at her, aware she’s being stupidly sappy but Harry looks so cute, flushed cheeks and cackling away.

She wiggles further down Harry’s body, smiling when she gets to her hips. “Love these,” Louis whispers, placing a small kiss on the soft skin.

Harry squirms above her, and when Louis glances up her mouth is in a flat line. “It’s just baby fat.”

“Hey,” Louis frowns, propping herself up on her elbows. “They’re cute. I like them, they’re all soft and squishy.”

The corners of Harry’s mouth turn up, eyelashes fluttering. “Oh. I didn’t think you’d like them.”

“I like everything about you,” Louis replies honestly, and Harry pulls her close with a whine. They kiss softly, sweetly, like they have all the time in the world. It reminds Louis of soft jumpers and warm baths and the sweet taste of strawberries, and she smiles as she pulls back.

“I’m going to eat you out now,” she announces, and grins when Harry swears loudly.

It’s not like Louis hasn’t eaten a girl out before; there was the blonde girl at that party last summer, and her and Hannah used to mess around a bit before they decided to be friends, and she and Jesy Nelson had sex in the school showers once, but they never, ever talked about it again.

But this is Harry, Harry who rescues ladybirds from bird baths, Harry who always has flour on her cheek after a shift at the bakery, Harry who was the first person she ever told about her Dad, and that means everything.

The girl in question moans when Louis lets out a deliberate, hot breath over her skin. Louis watches in fascination as Harry’s thighs tremble, then leans and licks over her pussy with one long, broad stripe.

Harry’s whole body is quivering now, as Louis gently traces her lips. Harry tastes good, a little sweet, and she hums against her. Harry moans at the vibrations, high in her throat, then screams with Louis finds her clit.

Louis suddenly doesn’t want to wait, wants to overwhelm rather than tease, have Harry coming with a scream rather than a drawn out moan. She flicks her tongue against Harry’s clit, slow then fast, hard then soft. She pulls Harry’s clit into her mouth, just scraping it with her teeth.

Harry’s incredible when she comes; she’s loud, screaming and moaning and whining, slicker and slicker and slicker until Louis can’t breathe, whole body racked with tremors. Her lips are bitten raw, her eyes wide and glassy and shining with moisture.

Louis climbs up the bed, scattering kisses over her face. “You okay?”

“Dead,” Harry mumbles, and Louis giggles. She clears her throat, gasping when her thighs rub together. “I want you - you should sit on my face.”

Louis’ pussy clenches involuntarily. “What?”

Harry pushes herself off the duvet, eyes narrowing. She grins, slow and easy like honey dripping from a spoon. “Sit on my face. Come on, Louis, please.”

Louis swallows, feels the thud, thud, thud of her heart. “What if I hurt you?”

Harry shakes her head, winding their hands together. She drops a small kiss to their joined palms. “You won’t. I’ll - I’ll punch you in the thigh if it’s too much.”

“Romantic,” Louis says dryly, and Harry giggles. On one hand, riding Harry’s face sounds like the greatest idea in history, but. “I haven’t - I didn’t - “

“What?” Harry asks, frowning at her. She pulls her legs up underneath her, tilting Louis’ head up with one finger. “Lou, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“I haven’t - “ Louis swallows, feeling embarrassed. Heat flares in her stomach, hot and ugly. “I haven’t shaved down - down there. I didn’t expect you to, well, to be getting laid anytime soon, and I mean, it’s not a forest or anything but I haven’t - “

“Louis,” Harry says loudly. “Louis, I don’t give a fuck about any of those things.”

Louis blinks, startled. “Oh.” She clears her throat. “You don’t?”

Harry rolls her eyes. “Of course not. You should never shave because society tells you to; the body of a porn actress isn’t a real girl’s body. Real girls have little tummies and squidgy hips and um, hair down there. That’s the reality. And it’s gorgeous.” Harry frowns. “Um, not trying to shit on porn actresses or anything, because loads of them are really horribly exploited, but. In general.”

Louis loves her so much. “I love you so much.”

Harry beams at her. “I love you too. Up you get.”

Louis snorts, gingerly straddling Harry. She winds her hands around the headboard, hovering above Harry’s mouth. “Punch me if it hurts, yeah?”

“It won’t,” Harry promises, and surges forward.

Louis almost cries at the first lick. Harry parts her lips slowly with her tongue, tracing the folds so gently it’s maddening. Louis fights back a whimper, but it tumbles out when Harry presses open mouthed, wet kisses to her pussy, licking back and forth. It feels so good, heat rocking through her, and she unconsciously moves closer to Harry’s mouth.

Harry lets out a moan, and licks harder. She must be burying her face in Louis’ cunt, Louis thinks vaguely, and cries out when the tip of Harry’s nose brushes her clit. Harry is really going for it now. She teases Louis’ clit, sucking it into her mouth and swirling her tongue around it.

Harry’s whimpering, humming, moaning, as if she’s fucking thirsty, and the noise and the vibrations send electric sparks rushing around Louis’ bloodstream. Harry’s tongue travels down, down, down, until she’s pressing at Louis’ opening, fucking her with her tongue and _fuck_ -

Louis comes harder than she ever has in her life; everything blacks out and a white hot pleasure rips through her. She has just enough piece of mind to not suffocate Harry, rolling off her and collapsing on her side.

Louis can see little shapes dancing behind her closed eyelids, feel the rise and fall of her chest. Her legs are still trembling.

Harry pokes her. “Are you okay?”

Louis cracks an eye open, then groans. Harry’s mouth is slick, slick with Louis, and the aftershocks dance along her skin. “Jesus, Haz. You’re like a nympho.”

Harry just hums proudly, tucking herself into Louis’ side. Louis inhales deeply, then realises she may have just suffocated her girlfriend. (Girlfriend? Possible girlfriend? Louis hasn’t exactly asked, but they did just confess their undying love, and if Harry thinks that mouth is going near another vagina ever again, she has another thing coming.)

“Are you okay?” Louis asks urgently. Harry’s mouth is cleaned - probably licked it off, her lizard brain supplies unhelpfully. She runs a hand through Harry’s curls, then strokes her cheek, Harry pushing up into it like a kitten. “You’re not - you didn’t drown or anything?”

“Nope,” Harry snorts. She presses a kiss to Louis’ hand. “That was great. I love you.”

Louis can’t stop smiling. “I love you too. Have for ages.”

Harry pokes her in the stomach. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Louis shrugs. She settles back onto the pillows. Harry curls into her, their bodies fitting like two puzzle pieces, resting her head into the crook of Louis’ neck. “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. In case you didn’t feel the same.” She looks at Harry seriously. “You’re my best friend.”

It’s true. Even now, Harry is her girlfriend and her best friend and the person who will always back Louis to the hilt. And it’s never going to change.

Harry smiles, dimples and curly hair and pink lips. “I know. But I thought it was a little obvious when I turneddown a date for you.”

Louis tugs on one of her curls. “Oi, I was still in shock about you slumming it with Nick bloody Grimshaw.”

Harry rolls her eyes. “Nick’s nice.”

“You will literally never see my pussy again.”

“But not as nice as you,” Harry rephrases, smile blinding. “Can we have sex again now? We have a lot to make up for.”

“Niall is going to be terrible,” Louis mutters, and she kisses the laughter off Harry’s lips.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well that got dirtier than I expected. an - regrettably, I have never sat on a girl's face, so if this is grossly inaccurate come shout at me for my lack of lesbian activity.
> 
> [updated fic link!](http://ariadneodair.tumblr.com/post/125005800062/long-way-from-the-playground-girldirection-14k) reblogs mean everything, also marta ily so much thank youuu :D
> 
> [my tumblr! ](http://ariadneodair.tumblr.com/) my next girl direction fic is going to be a superhero au so come yell at me to move my butt :)

**Author's Note:**

> Massive thanks to my betas - [this lovely girl](http://patroclourry.tumblr.com/) and this [beautiful pumpkin](http://perpetuallarry.tumblr.com/) \- I am sorry I dropped off the earth, I AM :(
> 
> AN - I am not asexual, but representation of asexual characters - and my own understanding of asexuality - was ridiculously little, so I knew I had to improve that.
> 
> I asked advice from friends who identify as ace, plus doing a load of research, but let me know if any of this is wrong or over stepping! please, if my portrayal is offensive or incorrect let me and I'll change it :)
> 
> Second part should be up soon-ish - plus that is the chapter with all the sex loool :D
> 
> [my tumblr](http://ariadneodair.tumblr.com/) is you want to rant/scream/tell me this wasn't shite :)


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